The Golden Façade
by kaylaagron
Summary: Sam Evans needed a distraction. Quinn Fabray needed a guy who could play the wholesome image her own boyfriend never will be. It was just pretend, enough to throw off her parents' suspicions when they showed up unannounced. But Sam was such a perfect candidate that Quinn needed him to keep playing the part, even when feelings get thrown into the mix. [Sam Evans & Skank!Quinn AU]
1. A Favor

**Notes: This is my first-time writing from Skank!Quinn's perspective and I have little information on her canon character so this story will be my personal take on how her character should be portrayed in this alternate universe. Also, note that this is strictly AU, so _all_ canon details would be redundant.**

* * *

Sam had thought he had long grown numb of the ache in his chest, reminding him pitifully that there was no place on earth he could possibly escape seeing them together. Nowhere to run, nowhere to hide, just hammering in the fact that he had to face the girl he loved be with someone else.

The blonde stiffened at the thought. _Someone that was not him._

He could see them rounding the corner, snuggled closely against each other as their breaths fogged together in harmonious sync.

Sam Evans was not someone to be _jealous_. Especially not of someone else's pure, unadulterated happiness radiating off the cold December air.

He felt bitter.

There was nothing in his life that went against the very definition of right. He had finally moved out of the tiny apartment that squeezed his family of five together, paid off his student loans and on his way in achieving that master's degree.

No doubt, he was still struggling between his studies and paying off the rent for his unbelievably tinier apartment he managed to find, but Sam was quite content with his life.

Until that very instant, standing dumbstruck on the sidewalk, he watched them make their imminent approach towards him that he froze in his tracks.

 _Nowhere to hide._

Her eyes lighted up with such glow it wrenched his heart, waving her hands enthusiastically when she caught sight of him.

"Sam!"

The corners of his lips twitched, forcing a smile onto them as he waved back obligatorily, hoping she would stop what he knew she would do.

It was hopeless and Sam knew it.

He released a sigh, opening his arms as her smaller body hugged his.

"Hey, there." He murmured into the soft brown hair that nuzzled against his torso, the curls cascading down her back.

She pulled back, that heartbreakingly brilliant smile so firmly planted on her features he was worried momentarily that her facial muscles would hurt from the overexertion.

"Sam."

The tone was lower, subdued. Not belonging to one enthusiastic childhood friend whose arms were wrapped around his waist.

He lifted his eyes to meet his, the smile faltering slightly. "Jake."

"It's so good to see you." Breaking his reverie was the ever excited girl, still keeping her hands on Sam. It was a crime not to get affected by her mere contact.

"Likewise, Marls." The lack of sincerity in his voice was obvious, but the girl was bound to miss it.

Sure enough, Marley tore away from her best friend and went back to loop her arm around her boyfriend's. "I'm almost frozen to death out here. C'mon, let's get inside."

The couple filed through the door, Sam following closely behind, as they entered the café.

The Atrium was quiet, a long walk from his apartment. Sam hated coffee, hated the adrenaline it released in a person's body, hated how it was how the happy couple met.

He really wished he could order something strong right now, something to drown his thoughts before he could face seeing them together, knowing it would never be his place.

But it was nine in the morning. And he was in a coffee shop. Did he mention that he hate coffee?

Sam declined the other man's offer to order before following his best friend to a table near the windows. It was big, spacious enough to give them all the personal space they needed.

Her cheeks were flushed pink from the weather, a color that never ceased to amaze him every time he saw it flush her skin. It made her feel even more perfect than he knew she was, capturing wonderfully the angelic image he reserved just for her.

"How are you?"

It was a simple question. Something everyone asked all the time as a greeting.

He shrugged as nonchalantly as he could muster, eyes averting to avoid her gentle ones. "I'm great. Classes are great, school is great and the city is great. Everything is great."

Her thin eyebrows rose in question and Sam had to bite on his bottom lip, swallowing the truth that was threatening to spill.

Of course she saw through his lie. She was his best friend, for crying out loud. One look was all it took.

Marley was the smartest person he had ever known and her perceptiveness was astonishing. Growing up, Sam had never been able to fool her for the slightest bit. Except the part where he nursed the greatest and unreciprocated crush on her. That was a living proof of how he had even managed to survive all those years of acting classes.

He held his hands up in surrender. "I am. I really am." He assured her, even adding in a small smile that hopefully convinced her he was telling the truth.

If she had any remaining doubt, he would never know since that was the moment Jake returned with their orders, sitting down next to her.

She gave her boyfriend a grateful smile, taking the cup in her hands before carefully sipping at the foam. The man settled his own drink on the table himself, quirking an eyebrow, a silent question.

"Sam was just telling me how well he's settling in the city." Marley shrugged, meeting his gaze sideways as she continued to sip.

The other man simply nodded, dropping the conversation.

Of all people who could have seen through his lie, it had to be Jake. Sure, he had never confronted Sam about it, but there was a heat behind the pointed glares he sent his way whenever Marley was not looking.

Not that she would notice, anyway. She was blissfully ignorant of the animosity between the two.

A loud ring blared through the tranquility of the café and Sam was thankful for the distraction.

"Oh, it's Unique!" Marley chirped once she identified the caller, grinning widely as she swiped to answer the call. "I haven't heard from you in _forever_!"

He barely restrained the urge to roll his eyes, fully aware they had talked almost every other day. _Forever_ was undoubtedly an exaggeration.

"What? I can barely hear you." Her eyebrows were furrowed together, as if trying to make sense of the situation. Sam could hear the buzzing from the other end, incoherent yelling in the background.

"I'm going to go outside for a bit. The reception's awful in here." Marley declared after a moment of attempting to rectify the situation, which was close to none. The café always had atrocious reception. Not that Sam cared in the least. He never would have stepped inside if it was up to him.

Jake nodded and the brunette leaned in to peck quickly on his cheeks, mumbling a soft apology before rushing outside. Sam dropped his gaze, feigning interest in the stray strings hanging off his shirt.

"Sam."

He raised his head, locking eyes with the other man, a silent _yes?_ directed at him.

A sigh. "I have something to tell you while Marley's gone."

He could feel the panic rise in his chest, sending him into a frenzy over the possible topics they could have together. They _never_ talked. In private, anyway. If it hadn't been Marley, Sam could never imagine himself knowing Jake. The confident man who took nobody's crap, especially when it came to his girlfriend.

He gulped and nodded, trying to withhold the temptation to bolt and run away before the conversation could even take place.

"I'm going to propose."

One simple sentence and it sent his world crashing down. The world seemed to have gone still, letting him take in the news as best as he could, which was unbearably pointless. Sam felt the air leaving his lungs painfully slow, as if fate decided to play a cruel joke in drawing out his death, instead of dealing him with a single blow.

If anything, sitting there opposite of Jake was worse than burning himself into the depths of hell.

He tried to recompose himself, schooling his features to not seem like he was not currently struggling for breath.

"That's… great." He was _really_ misusing the word great.

"Sam…"

Before he could add anything further, _something that could possibly cause yet another explosion in his head_ , he held his hand up, silencing him.

"No. That's really great to hear. You guys are… perfect together."

"Are you sure you're okay?" His voice sounded kind, so very unlike Jake. But he could see his own face being reflected in his hazel orbs, looking every bit of pathetic.

"Why wouldn't I be–"

"Because you love her?"

Sam choked, sputtering out in bewilderment. " _What?_ "

The other man exhaled, curling his fingers around his cup to bring the drink to his lips. He took the opportunity to examine his features. The resignation in his face was palpable.

"I'm not dumb, you know." Jake finally said, his eyes searing straight into Sam's. He felt exposed in front of him, like he was peeling away everything he had ever known.

"I saw how you look at her. I know. That's how _I_ look when I see her face."

He stayed silent, refusing to answer, and he apparently took it as a cue to continue.

"I didn't say anything because I love her, too. I couldn't risk ruining your friendship over _that_."

His fists clenched underneath the table, trying hard not to break in front of him. _Not here, not now._

He must have seen it too – _damn it, Sam_ – when he sighed again, shaking his head.

"What I'm saying is that–"

"I'm fine." He interrupted through gritted teeth, despite knowing he had absolutely no right in getting annoyed over the matter. "I really am. She's my best friend and I want nothing but the best for her, even if it meant it wouldn't be with me."

A pause. His breathing sounded eerily loud.

He released his hands, the knuckles having gone completely pale, before bringing one up to push the fringe that obscured his face away. "I know she's happy with you. And I couldn't be more thankful." Their eyes met and Sam hoped his words conveyed the sincerity, even though it was hurting him to even admit the truth.

Jake's frame relaxed visibly. He could tell he was mulling over his declaration, trying to decipher any hidden meaning.

A short minute passed before his lips curved into a tentative smile, reaching his eyes.

"You're a good person, Sam."

Before he could even form any decent response to that, Marley came back with a smile, skipping over to her previously occupied seat.

"What did I miss?"

Jake broke their gaze to glance lovingly back at her, mimicking the prominent smile on her face.

He felt like a bomb dropped in his face, struck by epiphany as he watched them interact easily, like two puzzle pieces finding their way to each other.

Somewhere deep inside of him, he knew he could never give _that_ to Marley.

"Shit, I hate to do this but we really need to go." She looked at her friend sheepishly, waving her phone around to emphasize the urgency. "We have to be at this place in like thirty minutes…"

Sam shook his head, the smile coming to him easier than it did earlier. "It's fine. Don't worry about me."

Marley kissed his cheeks apologetically, giving his shoulders a small squeeze before slipping into Jake's arms again with ease as they got up to leave.

He barely had time to sigh in relief when she turned her head back a second later, her hands already on the door.

"You're coming to the Christmas party at my house, right?"

There it was. He had been fairly certain that she would have forgotten to invite him this year, being so in love and all. Honestly, a part of him was glad he did not have to decline her polite offer.

Now that he knew Jake was going to pop the question in the near future, he really wanted to avoid them to the best of his effort. Despite his acceptance that he would never be the partner worthy of his best friend, he could never bear the sight of seeing her accept the ring from her beloved.

The look of pity she sent his way did nothing to ease the ache in his heart. She was oblivious to his inner turmoil, but she knew him enough to know something was up. _What_ , exactly, was the real question.

"Actually, I need to go back home. My parents insisted I return for the holidays this year."

Her face contorted into one of sympathy and concern and he almost winced at the blatant lie he made up. He hated to see the look on her face, hated how small it made him feel, hated to having to lie in order to avoid spending time with her.

"Oh, well. Tell your mom I said hi and I miss her blueberry pies."

Sam nodded mutely, not being able to admit he could barely afford his rent, let alone a plane ticket back home.

"I'll see you soon, okay?" Marley blew a kiss at him, waving along with Jake before they stepped outside of the café, linking their arms together.

His eyes followed their figures until they disappeared from his sight, still laughing and close.

As much as he hated the place, he could barely pick himself up and leave. He would hate to go back and spend even more alone time in his empty apartment, surrounding himself with misery.

Without thinking further, he pulled his laptop out of his long forgotten bag, lying idly by his feet, and powered it on, figuring he could distract himself with his assignments at least.

* * *

Quinn stepped inside the café, inhaling the aromatic scent that infiltrated her nostrils.

It made her feel alive, springing some much needed energy into her worn-out body.

Puck had pressed against her back, his rough fingertips roaming her skin tight jeans, though she could tell he desperately wanted to touch the skin hidden beneath it.

Her phone vibrated in her pockets and she had to push his wandering hands, making him frown in the process, in order to grab it.

The picture being flashed on the screen made her grimace. It was a picture taken years ago, when she had not been looking. Back when she thought Quinn was the most perfect girl in the world, so very unlike the person she currently was.

Her voice was strained when she answered. "Hey, mom."

"Quinn!" Judy sounded way too cheerful, which hinted at nothing but good. Before she could dwell on it, the voice on the other end continued. "What are you doing?"

"Uh." She glanced around, inspecting the store carefully as though her mother was going to jump out of nowhere. It was a crazy notion and she could only shake her head in disbelief at the absurdity of the idea. "Nothing much, actually. I'm just grabbing myself some coffee at The Atrium."

"Oh, _The Atrium_." Her mother repeated, making the name sound like a disease. Which was really her fault, seeing how she bumped into her high school nemesis at said café during one of her rare visits. Ever since then, she would flinch whenever the name was brought up in conversations, which was why Quinn loved patronizing it so much. It always ruffled her mother's feathers and nothing gave her more satisfaction than that.

"Quinn, babe. Do you want your usual, or?" Puck shouted from the cashier, having gone to order like the impatient ass he was.

She waved him off, stepping away further to place some distance.

"Who's that?" Judy enquired and she could hear the rustling in the background, meaning her mother was outside, probably walking.

"Nobody."

"It didn't sound like _nobody_."

Quinn rolled her eyes, pinching the bridge of her nose. It was too early to deal with her probing and she needed at least a truckload of coffee in her system before she could attempt to do so.

"Fine. It's a guy." She admitted, watching him pull out his wallet to pay. "That I'm dating."

"How long?" Russell's voice interrupted and Quinn froze, having not noticed the change of listener.

"Uh." She bit her lip, pretending to think. "A few weeks, maybe?"

She heard a snort before her mother took over again. "Where did you meet?"

 _We met at the bar that I play at, which you probably don't care and hate, anyway._ "The library."

"Oh, did you?" Judy sounded skeptical and Quinn could hardly blame her. Not even in her wildest dreams could she possibly imagine her daughter in a library, meeting any form of a decent guy. Who was nothing like Puck, at all.

"Yes, we did." She reaffirmed, murmuring a quick _thanks_ when Puck walked back to her, handing over her much needed caffeine. A groan escaped her throat as soon as she took a sip, her weariness washing away immediately.

"We'd love to meet him, someday."

Quinn hummed pensively, paying no attention. "Yeah."

She could lie and told them they broke up by the time she went back home for Christmas. It would be fairly easier, even. What were the chances of her lasting with an actually _decent_ guy?

"I guess we'll see him soon."

"Sure." She tuned out completely when Puck leaned in to kiss at her neck, brushing away the pink hair that fell to her shoulders.

"That's great. We'll be there in about ten minutes."

 _What?_

Her shock made her lose whatever grip she had left on her coffee, dropping it on the ground.

"Fuck, _Quinn_." Puck whined as he jumped out of the way, narrowly avoiding being scalded by the hot liquid.

"You're– What?" She sputtered, not caring if her boyfriend muttered several curses under his breath and swatted at his shirt. No, she had more pressing matters on hand. "You're in New York?"

"Yes, dear." Quinn could hear the smile in her mother's voice, as if she was enjoying the surprise way more than she was. "We were just visiting your aunt when we realized we haven't seen you in _months_."

"But–"

Judy went on like she never heard her speak, at all. "Plus, we have all these preparations going on for the Christmas get-together we're planning, it's so frustrating… Oh! You know what?" She sounded like a lightbulb had just went off inside her head. "You should invite this boyfriend of yours, too."

 _What? No._ "Uh, my boyfriend's pretty busy this Christmas."

"No, I'm not." Puck interrupted and Quinn practically hissed at him, hoping her mother did not hear that part.

"Great!" _Of course, she did_. "We'll see you in a bit. Love you."

The line went dead.

 _Great, great, great, great._

She just lied to her parents about meeting a boyfriend in the library and got him an invitation for Christmas? Back home? Quinn groaned out loud, mentally cursing the babble-mouths that were both her and her boyfriend.

"What's up?" Puck enquired, seeing the furrow between her eyes.

Not to mention her parents were on their way to meet said boyfriend, expecting to see a nice, down-to-earth American boy who went to libraries and swept their daughter off her feet.

Which was everything Puck was _not._ Mohawk, tattoos and a piercing in his tongue – there was nothing about him that screamed approval in her parents' eyes.

"My parents are having an epiphany and suddenly decided to visit me. I need you to leave, or pretend not to know me."

The apology that was on her lips never left, since the realization dawned on Puck's face and immediately drained all color from his features.

" _Fuck_. Wow, I get it. I'm out." With that, he practically fled the café with his tail between his legs.

Quinn was contemplating on whether to join or murder him.

But there was no time left to decide. The clock was ticking and her parents would be arriving any moment, _now_.

She smoothed her untidy locks, ensuring her pink hair covered the ink on her shoulders and rolled her sleeves down to veil the rest of the tattoos. Judy and Russell would most definitely have a fit seeing the dye in her hair – _horrifying was what they would call it_ – and the dark lines that went down the curves of her arms.

That was why whenever she visited them, she made sure she bleached her hair back to a color they would approve and brought along all the long sleeves and pants she could find, in attempt to conceal everything they hated on her body.

There was no time to do so in the present situation, unfortunately, but to utilize the most of her current resources to concoct an image her parents kept pretending she was.

And a boyfriend. _Shit._ She had forgotten about it.

Quinn scanned the relatively empty café in matter of seconds, trying to find anyone _remotely_ fitting. It barely had any customers, apart from an elderly couple and a handful of students agonizing over their homework.

Something – or rather _someone_ – caught her attention when her eyes reached the table by the windows.

He had blonde hair, with his bangs swept to the side neatly, which was a stark contrast to the panic rising in Quinn's chest.

His forehead practically had 'golden boy' etched all over, looking every bit of the wholesome good guy every parent would dream of having their daughter to date.

 _Especially_ hers.

The man was typing away at his laptop, oblivious to her distress, as he frowned at the screen, pondering over something she could not see.

But, almost as if he could sense her scrutiny, he glanced up just in time to catch her in the act.

An amused expression formed on his lips and he offered a kind smile, which resolved the nagging feeling nestled deeply inside of her. That and also, made up her mind to storm over before stopping in front of him.

His smile turned quizzical, but remained on his features.

"I need your help."


	2. The Fabrays

Sam could really use a distraction.

Attempting to drown himself in the depths of his assignment did nothing to ease the constant nagging in his mind and he found himself, more often than not, having to suppress the urge to groan out loud and bang his head against the table. Like it would not draw even more unwanted attention to him at the moment.

And it did not help that he had been stuck on the same sentence for the last twenty minutes, or so.

The words on his screen seemed to mock him, laughing at his self-imposed misery, and he furrowed his eyebrows in frustration, jabbing at the keys.

 _Yeah, I know I'm dumb. And arguing with my laptop. Great, just... great._

He released an annoyed grunt before pushing himself off the table, where he had been resting his elbows, to take a quick glance around his surroundings, in attempt to clear his mind.

The café was still quite empty, devoid of any life in the early hours, where surely many were still sleeping in.

The corners of his lips fought back a smile when he saw that, no further than a table away, some kids struggling with their homework, reflecting the same distress he knew was on his own face.

It made him relax, the comfort however fleeting, to see that he was not the only one feeling defeated in face of the unyielding weather.

His head had turned, wanting to relish in the scenery just outside of his window before throwing himself back into his work, when he halted, his eyes locking with a pair of amber hues.

In the entirety of Sam Evans' life, he never had someone stare at him the way the stranger did. Usually, either party would drop their gaze the moment they were caught staring. _Not Sam, not her._

He held her gaze, taking the opportunity to inspect her carefully.

Everything about her exuded confidence, from her vivid pink hair to scarlet red lips that drew attention to her immediately. Her neck had a hint of ink trailing down to where her rumpled sleeves covered, the top of a branch peeking from beneath the fabric.

She was exhausted – it was prevalent from her shoulders slump and the clever application of smudged eyeliner to conceal her weariness – but it did not hamper her beauty from shining through.

And it was breathtaking.

Perhaps, if it was not due to fact that the café was practically empty, every head would be drawn to her, just like how his own eyes refused to leave hers.

The thought brought him back to reality, where he found himself still gawking at her.

When her gaze did not drop, Sam did only the friendliest gesture he could come up with and offered a smile at her, hoping she would end her intensive staring and stop his knees from going weak.

What he had not expected to happen was that she took it as an invitation and came stomping towards him with fierce determination.

His mouth went dry and he tried swallowing past the lump in his throat, to no avail.

"I need your help."

He had been anticipating a raucous, slightly monotonous, voice when she descended upon him. A silvery, albeit commanding, statement was the last thing on his mind.

"Excuse me?"

She sighed in what he perceived to be exasperation, and pushed her hand through her hair, which seemed to be in a constant state of dishevelment. He tried to ignore how it would feel like, running his own fingers through those pink strands.

"I need your help, okay?" She repeated, as if he did not hear her the first time. Which he did, actually. The confusion had instead stemmed from the reason she was asking _him._

"Look, my parents show up uninvited and I've to introduce my boyfriend to them."

Her painted nails tapped against her sides impatiently, awaiting a response. Sam merely swallowed, successfully this time, before nodding to show that he was listening.

"…And how can I help?"

She leaned over his table, placing her hands on the surface. He kept his eyes on hers, willing them not to avert downwards, to see where the tattoo plunged down between the valley of her breasts.

"Well…" The stranger shrugged before sliding into the seat beside him, her scent sweeping over him. It was a mixture of sweet and feminine, an odd contrast from her inked skin. "They're supposed to meet a nice, down-to-earth guy I met at the library. Nothing like _my_ boyfriend."

"So," He mulled over her words, contemplating. "I'm nice and down-to-earth?" He asked, repeating her choice of descriptions warily.

"You do look like one." She shrugged again, sliding closer against him. "I know this sounds crazy, but I need you to play the part until I can get rid of them."

His eyes fell to her puckered lips, the red sending mental images that hinted at nothing that said _nice_ , before shaking his head clear of the thoughts.

The notion was _crazy_ – he would give her credit for that – but Sam was an actor, the very thing that he was pursuing, for crying out loud. Surely he could play the role of a perfect boyfriend meeting the parents of his very attractive girlfriend. Besides, it did help that she was _very attractive_ , which warranted the need to spend more time with her.

"Please?" Her voice broke through his thoughts, eyes imploring. "I'll do the talking and it'll be quick, I promise. I can even pay you!"

His eyebrows raised in question and she scrunched her nose, probably regretting her method of repayment.

" _Fine_ , I can't pay you but I'll make it up to you… somehow."

He pretended to think her offer over, though his mind was made up. "Alright, I'll do it."

The relieved smile breaking across her face made it all worth it, making Sam greedy to see more of the gorgeous curl of lips in the future. She opened her mouth, presumably to thank him, but he held his hand up, silencing the words.

"But I'll only do it for a date."

"A date?" She echoed, bafflement prominent in her features. "You want to go on a date with _me_?"

The blonde nodded, leaning back into his seat.

"You're aware that I actually _have_ a boyfriend, right?"

He shrugged, as nonchalantly as he could muster. "I'm not suggesting anything romantic. Even friends can go out on a date."

The girl narrowed her eyes at him, a look of disbelief clear on her face, before glancing towards the clock on a nearby wall and letting out a curse under her breath.

"So, do we have an agreement?"

"Okay, _fine_. Now, give me your scarf."

Sam barely had the chance to question her motive when she simply tugged it off his neck, wrapping around her own instead. It effectively hid any remains of ink on her shoulders, though the branch still stayed visible on her forearm, winking playfully at him. She grabbed the napkin off the table, cleaning herself off the dark makeup on her face.

"We met at the library. You're sweet, nice and wholesome, everything they'd like. Hopefully. We've been dating a few weeks, nothing too serious. That's all they know, so it should be easy."

She rattled off the details, expert hands wiping off any lingering lipstick off her lips before moving on to her eyes, leaving behind a small trail of makeup.

"And what do you do for a living?" Sam asked, watching her finish by smoothing her hair, tucking the strands behind her ears.

At her raised brows, he shrugged. "We're _dating_. Shouldn't I know your job?"

"I play in a band." She conceded, huffing out a breath. "You?"

"I'm an actor."

"Oh." The girl's eyes bulged before rolling them back, laughing humorlessly. "They'll hate that as much as they hate mine."

Sam kept quiet, his eyes roaming over hers as she kept fidgeting around, fussing about her appearance and having more 'resources', before he finally placed a hand on her shoulders, stopping her uneasy movements.

"It's fine. Don't worry about it. You look beautiful."

Her expression looked startled, as if she was not believing his words, for a moment. It passed, letting her relax before a tentative smile crept up on her lips.

That was when he realized he was still clueless about her name – the most important detail of _dating_ someone – but before he could open his mouth to ask, the voice at the front of the café answered. "Quinn!"

 _Quinn. What a fitting name_.

He could feel her stiffen beside him, taking a shuddering breath before standing to face the owner of the voice, who he had assumed to be her mother. The woman had coiled her blonde hair to perfection, not a strand out of place and decked in a yellow dress, a clutch tucked under her arms.

He rose alongside her, draping an arm around her shoulders – which should be fine – given that they were supposedly dating. But the motion froze her in place, confusing him immensely.

The older woman's lips curved to recognize her daughter, waving slightly before stepping towards them, a middle-aged man following swiftly behind her.

Sam had only noticed then how their hands were intertwined, reaching with their free hand to seemingly draw their daughter into a hug. He glanced to his side, watching the earlier confidence drain out of her, replaced by a stricken feeling.

"It's fine." He murmured reassuringly, squeezing her shoulders gently, which went unnoticed by the girl, who was struck speechless ever since the appearance of her parents.

"Honey, what in the world did you put in your _hair_?" The woman exclaimed the minute she reached them, clicking her tongue with disapproval as her eyes raked the strands in question.

Quinn was gnawing on her bottom lip harshly he was positive she tasted copper in her mouth when her mother moved to hug her, turning her head away from the offending locks of hair as if it could dispel the fact her daughter had dyed it pink.

Her father stepped forth for a hug next, making Sam drop his hand awkwardly from her shoulders and shuffled on his feet beside them.

When he pulled back, that seemed to be the moment for them to notice Sam, their faces lighting up with a smile.

"Quinn." The older woman started, breaking the girl out of her thoughts. "Is this…?"

"Uh, yeah. This is…" She paused and he could tell with the dawning horror on her face, that she had just remembered the fact they did not introduce themselves to each other yet.

 _Always missing the point._

Sam moved past her, a pleasant smile plastered on his face, to take over. "Sam Evans. Pleasure to meet you."

He extended a hand politely, waiting for her to respond.

" _Sam_!" The older woman cried out, with what seemed to be relief washed over her face. Instead of shaking his hand, she tugged on it and wrapped her arms around him, mimicking like how she had hugged Quinn prior.

The girl's eyes widened beside him, clearly not expecting the turn in events.

He laughed easily, patting the woman on her back before she released him, taking another quick look at him.

Her father offered his hand, which Sam took gratefully, thankful that he was unlike his wife in terms of being affectionate with strangers they just met. "It's nice to meet you, son."

"Likewise, sir. You've raised an amazing daughter."

"Really?" The tone puzzled him, like he was bewildered that Sam actually complimented his parenting skills.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Quinn stumble towards the table, probably still shell-shocked from whatever that just conspired in front of her eyes. He pulled her chair out for her, settling her down before glancing up to the couple again, staring at the younger couple with a gleam in their eyes.

Before she could protest, Sam sat down right next to her and grabbed her hand, lacing their fingers together swiftly. The contact sent shivers down his spine, the pleasant tingle vibrating through his frame.

Her face turned towards him, probably to question his motive and _what in the world was he doing, holding her hand_. But the friendly smile remained on his lips, giving no hint of his emotions away as his eyes stayed on her parents, not once returning her gaze.

"Please, have a seat."

The older woman shook her head, turning to her husband before tightening her clasp on his hand. "We'll join you in a bit." With that, they moved towards the counter, the café coming to life suddenly as they waited in line to place their orders.

"What the _hell_ was that?"

His brows furrowed, his head turning to the side to face the fury she unleashed upon him. Her face was contorted in a mix of anger, exasperation and something he could not identify.

Despite that, she had not pulled her hand away. He would call it a victory.

"Meeting your parents? Isn't that what you asked me to do?"

Her cheeks flushed pink and she tore her gaze away from his face, though her lips retained its tightness.

"You _hugged_ her. You _don't_ hug her."

He held his hands up in surrender, trying to not let the amusement present on his features. "In my defense, _she_ hugged me. I tried to shake her hand, but she pulled me into a hug."

She folded her arms across her chest, her eyes still averted away. He sighed in defeat, recognizing a minute too late defending himself was the last thing he should do around the girl.

"Fine, I'm sorry. I won't hug her again, if that's what you want."

Her anger seemed to extinguish slightly when she glanced sideways towards him, a smile threatening on her lips.

Relief washed over him and he allowed him to expel a breath he did not realize he was holding, turning his eyes up in time to see her parents returning to their table.

"They're coming. No hugging, I promise." He leaned in to whisper, sliding his arm over the back of her chair. His hand was warm, lingering just a safe distance away from her back.

Sam only pulled away when they were near, pretending to have been whispering with their daughter when they caught them, a sheepish smile accompanying the look.

"So, Sam." The older woman started once they settled in, closing her hands around her drink. "Quinn mentioned you met at the library?"

The incredulous look was not lost on him.

"Oh, yes. She actually helped me to find a book I was looking for."

Her mother arched a perfectly plucked eyebrow, confirming his suspicions when she said, "Is that right? I never would've imagined Quinn knowing her way around a library. I tried making her read when she was young, but she wouldn't read _anything_ that wasn't about music or came with a CD. Other kids we could bribe with sweets, but not Quinn."

It was Sam's turn to raise an eyebrow, though it was mostly attributed to how the girl beside him stiffened again, reminding him how the phenomenon only seemed to appear around her parents in the short span that he knew her.

"Well, I was trying to find a book on musical composition for my paper when she stepped in. I was in the wrong section entirely, so I really got lucky in finding an expert."

"Paper?" The woman asked quizzically, frowning slightly. "Does that mean you're in school?"

"Well, technically, yes. I'm getting my master's."

Her eyes lit up with glee while her daughter's similarly amber hues startled, amusing Sam with her surprise, before narrowing them again. "Master's degree in music, I presume?"

"No, ma'am. Acting, actually. I was writing a paper on theatrical music."

Quinn was right. Her mother seemed deflated to hear his profession, once he had clarified what he was studying for.

"Acting, huh? That's… nice."

"Yes, ma'am, it is. I love it, though I'm interested in teaching on a collegiate level."

That seemed to have cheered her visibly when her hands came together in a clasp, amazing Sam how she could do it with a hand around her mug. "Oh, that's simply _wonderful_!"

Her father, all the while busily typing away on his phone, perked to hear his wife's excitement, turning to face her. "What's so wonderful?"

"Sam's just telling me about how he's studying to be a college professor!"

 _In acting._ She seemed to have ignored that fact completely, which Sam did not bother to correct.

"That's nice." The man answered, placing his phone on the table.

"Thank you, sir."

"Call me Russell, son."

Sam smiled easily, nodding at the approval in his eyes. Something told him he had just earned points in terms of the girl's parents.

"Of course, _Russell_." He liked the sound of her father's name on his tongue, made it seem he was a step closer to… what, exactly, he had no idea. He was also clueless about the way Quinn paled next to him, watching him interact with her parents. "How's the trip?"

* * *

Quinn's mind had been a form of hurricane – _okay, a train-wreck would be a better metaphor_ – when her parents entered the café, at which point it failed her completely, shutting down instantly.

She had avoided them to the best of her abilities, to the point of escaping to New York two years prior, only going back for the holidays under the pretense she was busy.

Never once did they voluntarily initiate a visit, even that _one_ time Judy patronized The Atrium was one week after she moved in, to which she seemingly took an oath to avoid her as much as she did them. Which was fine, really, for Quinn. It meant less pretending, less trying, less being _Quinn Fabray_.

But that fine morning, after an exhilarating night of playing, her parents decided to make it their number one priority to ruin any good left in her life by showing up without notice in her neighborhood.

And cornered her into admitting a relationship, telling a flimsy lie about her boyfriend and at the moment, fawning all over her boyfriend.

 _Wait, no. Pretend-boyfriend, to be exact._

It really did not help matters that said pretend-boyfriend played right into their hands, throwing his head back to laugh at another joke Russell made.

Quinn had zoned out somewhere between him laying a hand dangerously close to her exposed strip of skin and asking after her parents' trip.

Leaning back into her seat, she watched the three blondes converse easily with each other, hands moving animatedly. _Unbelievable_.

"Quinn?" Judy's voice called her out from the bubble she enclosed herself into and she straightened herself, as if she had not utterly missed everything they just said.

"Why haven't you mention such a nice boy like Sam to us?"

 _Right. Sam, my pretend-boyfriend, whom I met like five minutes before you showed up._

The blonde beside her had the audacity to laugh, sounding effortless, so unlike the fake laughter she made around her family. When she did not respond, he took it as his cue to answer on her behalf.

"Well, it's nothing too serious, so we wanted to keep it between us. Take it slow."

Judy cooed loudly, grabbing her husband's arm dramatically. Quinn had to resist the urge to roll her eyes.

They hated how her relationships work, hated how much she moved from one guy to another in the span of a few months, so hearing Sam say those magic words, made him the son they wished they had instead of her.

Her phone pinged with a message and she almost smiled at the distraction.

"Listen, Sam and I really have to get going. I didn't know you were coming and I've something on later..." Quinn trailed off, hoping they would catch her drift.

"Oh, don't worry about us." Judy finished the last drop of her drink, placing the empty mug back on the table. "Get going. Plus, we'll see you tomorrow."

 _Tomorrow?_

At her bafflement, Judy rolled her eyes, all too aware that her daughter must have zoned out of their conversation. "Yes, dear. We're having lunch tomorrow."

"Oh, no. I don't think Sam'll be free–"

"Nonsense. He's already agreed."

Quinn turned to the blonde next to her, a look of betrayal across her face as her jaw fell slack. A sheepish smile, similar to the look he had when her parents came back to the table, curved on his lips before he shrugged, avoiding her gaze.

She released an exasperated breath, unable to believe that both her parents and pretend-boyfriend were working against her.

"Don't you go hiding this wonderful young man from us. You two clearly adore each other and I don't see how this couldn't be _more_ in the future."

 _We don't adore each other. Hell, we just met._

"Mom–" She tried protesting again, but was effectively cut off by her mother interrupting right back.

"I don't want to hear any more arguments from you. He's coming tomorrow and _that's_ final. Sam," Judy fixed her eyes on the blonde, causing him to look back at her quickly. "Tell me you'll see us tomorrow and talk some sense into your girlfriend for us, will you?"

Sam turned towards her and she glared back, knowing what he was about to say and willing him mentally not to.

It was a pathetic attempt and the blonde knew it, grinning playfully before focusing on her mother again.

"Of course, ma'am. I'll be seeing both of you tomorrow."

"Excellent."

With that, Judy tugged on her husband, his attention back to his phone again, before standing up alongside him. She bent over to kiss Sam's cheeks, whispering something in his ears, moving onto Quinn to do the same.

"He's coming tomorrow, do you hear me?" She emphasized, the threat clear despite her smiling facade. "I won't have you dissuading him otherwise."

Quinn simply nodded, patting her back patronizingly. It was no big deal if he could not make it if she murdered him afterwards, right?

Both of them stood, watching the older couple link their arms before disappearing around the corner.

The second they were gone, the blonde chuckled.

Her eyes narrowed, spinning on her heels as a heat crept up onto her cheeks, raising her hand as if to hit him.

"Hey, easy, babe." He laughed again, catching her hand mid-air when it had swung at him, and pushed it back to her side.

"Why are you even trying to hurt your _boyfriend_?" The word infuriated her further, the anger in her eyes flaring so much that she was sure steam was practically coming of her ears.

"First, you're _not_ my boyfriend. And secondly, _what the hell were you doing_?"

Sam chewed on his lips, undoubtedly trying to withhold another laugh that would earn him a definite slap if she heard it one more time, tugging on her arms to get her sitting back down again. She allowed him, all the while still burning holes into his brain with her eyes.

"Well, I did ask you for help when she asked." He started, shrugging before crossing his arms across his chest. "But you're too busy daydreaming you didn't notice my less-than-subtle cries for help."

A pink flush tinted at her cheeks and she glanced away, unwilling to show him.

"Okay, that much's my fault, I admit."

He raised his eyebrows defiantly, having proven his point.

"Why don't we start over? I'm Sam Evans – rising actor and your boyfriend for the next twenty-four hours." He held his hand out, wiggling in front of her. "Nice to meet you."

She rolled her eyes, looking away again momentarily to find his hand still in the air.

"Seriously?"

He gestured at his offered hand, shrugging briefly. "Yeah, I'm serious."

"Fine." She huffed out a breath, before taking his extended hand and squeezing. "Quinn Fabray."

She could tell he was waiting for more but she did not want to give him the satisfaction, especially not after he had just played her for a fool.

After a while, he gave up and sighed in resignation, dropping his hand.

"And..." He glanced up expectantly when she spoke again, and she tried to ignore the sensation knotting in her stomach. "Thank you, I guess."

"What for?"

"For being my pretend-boyfriend today. And tomorrow. And having to stand my crazy parents for two days."

"Don't feel bad. I wasn't planning anything exciting tomorrow. If it comforts you to know, I was going to order Chinese take-out and wallow in misery."

She scoffed. "Can I at least buy you coffee? Considering you're giving up precious time for me."

"Oh, no. I don't drink coffee."

Her eyebrows almost rose to her hairline, before she glanced around warily, making sure she was in the right place to add, "Then what're you doing here?"

"Pretending to be someone's long-lost son. But I landed something better." Sam grinned, adding in a playful wink.

This time, she laughed alongside him.

Her phone pinged again, signalling yet another message. She looked at the words with annoyed fondness, sighing inwardly. "I really have to go now, but do you mind coming over early tomorrow, before my parents arrive? We'll go over more details about... stuff and map something out."

Sam nodded and she grabbed another napkin, writing her number hurriedly on it before thrusting it into his face. "Text me, or something."

He took the napkin, reading the scrawled numbers over quickly before pocketing it, nodding again. "See you tomorrow, Quinn."

She hummed, taking off the scarf she 'borrowed' from him earlier and folding it, resting atop the table. "Thanks, again. See you."

With one last look at the blonde, she pushed open the door, stepping out into the unfeeling cold.


	3. Another Meeting

Sam had been staring at the address on his phone for a full minute, now.

It was as if he was trying to memorise the words, or still wrapping his head around the absurdity of the situation, though he really had no idea at that point.

When he agreed to spend the day with the Fabrays, it was solely motivated by his selfish reasons to distract himself from wallowing in absolute misery, to forget momentarily what was going on in his life.

Now, standing in the stairwell leading to her apartment, Sam found himself stuck between running away and taking a leap of faith.

But the decision not to break his promise outweighed the former and he sucked in a harsh breath, his finger hovering above the call button briefly before pressing it.

A buzz. "Who's there?"

Her voice sounded ethereal, despite the hoarseness coating it, signifying her barely woken state of mind.

He cleared his throat and spoke into the speaker. "Sam. Sam Evans."

There was a brief moment of silence, almost as if she was surprised to hear him buzzing her apartment, as if he was the last person in the world she was expecting. "Oh."

"Are you going to let me up, or am I going to freeze to death?" He teased and despite his joking demeanor, he was petrified for the second the words left his lips that she had already regretted her decision.

A muffed snort echoed through the buzzer, lifting the weigh off his shoulders. "C'mon up."

The door parted for him and Sam ascended the stairs, stepping into the darkness. The stairwell was quiet, smelling like admixture of rusty metal and fetid waters, and he couldn't help wrinkling his nose as he ventured further.

"In here." Her voice had drifted from the door on the farthest end of the hallway, morning light slipping through the entrance.

Entering through the threshold, the first thing the blonde did was scan the interior of the apartment.

It was a quaint place, a stark contrast from the pungent odor from the hall. There was a whiff of faint fragrance hanging in the air and he inhaled sharply, indulging himself in a much-needed intake of fresh air.

"Hey." Quinn's head popped out from what seemed to be her room, her slender fingers combing through the wet strands of pink hair. It did not soothe the nerves he had been feeling all morning to catch her freshly showered and emerging from her bathroom, and he had to swallow past the lump in his throat before murmuring back a greeting himself.

Thankfully, she was already decently dressed, though he couldn't help watching the droplets of water glide down her shoulders.

"Uh." He gestured vaguely around her apartment, trying to distract him from gawking openly at the beauty in front of his eyes. "Nice place."

Her eyebrows cocked warily at him, a look of disbelief planted on her features. "Thanks, I guess? It's not much, but it'll do."

"You're early." Quinn continued, walking gracefully towards her kitchen where she opened her fridge, rummaging through it. "Drinks?"

" _You_ told me to come early to go over things, remember?" He replied and hearing her affirmative hum, shook his head. "Water's fine."

Reappearing with an apple in her hand, she proceeded to fill a glass with tap-water and returned to his side, tilting her head. "Not _this_ early."

Ignoring the flush in his cheeks, he took the offered drink in hand and simply shrugged instead in lieu of an answer.

"Anyway." Quinn settled by her couch, tucking her legs beneath her before beckoning him over with a curl of her index finger. "Let's just get started."

He followed her movements, taking a seat whilst placing a comfortable distance between them. "Where shall we begin?"

The girl tapped on her knees, mulling over for a minute. "Tell me about you. Your hobbies, life and the like."

"Shouldn't it be ladies, first?"

"I'm no lady." Came her reply, biting into her apple with nonchalance. "Plus, there's nothing interesting about me."

His eyebrows raised questioningly but he thought better than argue his point, merely sucking in a breath before attempting to talk. "I'm from Nashville, moved here a couple of years ago for my degree, which you already know."

Quinn rolled her eyes, though there was no heat behind it, just sheer indifference, and Sam took it as a cue to continue.

"I have two siblings, both younger than me. A handful, but I love them all the same."

At that revelation, he could sense her stiffen beside him, her chewing ceasing almost instantaneously. But before he could question the reason, the moment passed and she simply reverted back to her disinterested state.

"Hobbies-wise, I volunteer once a week at an after-school program." When her mouth fell gape, Sam felt the need to elaborate. "It's a centre for at-risk youths."

She swallowed the bit of fruit in her mouth. "Wow, here I thought you were a golden boy. Turns out you're even more _golden_ than I thought you'd be."

"Why's that? They're just kids who need a place to hang out. It's not like I'm going for some award, of sorts."

Shaking her head, she pursed her lips into a firm line and gestured for him to resume speaking.

"Enough about me. I don't know a thing about you."

Quinn's mouth opened to counter his statement but he just eyed her silently, effectively cutting off the retorts threatening to spill from her lips.

After a moment, she expelled an exasperated sigh, lulling her head backwards. "I don't know what to say."

"Start small. Tell me about _you_." Sam coaxed gently, trying to resist sounding overly enthusiastic.

She narrowed her amber hues at him, as if attempting to decipher any hidden meaning behind his words, and he held her gaze steadily.

" _Fine._ " Quinn exhaled loudly through her nose, reaching forth to dump her apple core on the coffee table before readopting her position on the couch.

Acutely aware of her inner turmoil, Sam awaited patiently, leaning forward to express his genuine interest.

When she begun, her voice was small, almost too quiet for his ears to pick up. "I.. I play in a band. It's at a small bar, nothing much."

"And..." The word was practically forced from her lips and she gnawed onto her bottom lip, as if trying to think of a more fitting sentence before speaking.

Whatever she was struggling with seemed to be require an enormous surge of courage to say, when she grabbed his forgotten glass to take a huge gulp, disregarding the fact that he had sipped from it minutes earlier.

"Uh," Sam cleared his throat awkwardly, mentally cursing himself out for pushing her limits. "You don't have to tell me if you don't feel comfortable."

The feeble expression she directed his way made the lump in his throat no easier to swallow, making the confident image she concocted shatter in the matter of seconds.

"I– I want to. You _need_ to know, if you're going to pretend to be my boyfriend."

"Okay... But like I said, no pressure if you don't–"

She had taken a deep breath and interrupted his rambling with a low voice, "I was a cheerleader in a high school."

Now, _that_ came as a complete surprise. "You were a– What?"

His bewildered expression seemed to be the exact thing to wheedle a proper reaction from her, judging from the twitch on the corners of her lips, albeit too quick for him to actually savor.

"You heard me. I was a cheerleader."

"Wow." He mimicked her earlier bafflement and this time, she allowed her lips to curve into the smallest of smile. "That's– That's something else."

"Why? Can't imagine me in a cheerleader skirt?" She teased, waving an imaginary pom-pom in her hands.

A grin came to him easily and he leaned into the couch, relaxing. "I'm trying to picture it, but–"

Quinn snickered before squaring her jaw, the playfulness draining out of her.

Determined not to lose that side of her, Sam perked up. "So, a cheerleader, huh? What's the story behind that?"

"I spent the longest time in my life pretending to be someone I wasn't." Her answer was blunt, straightforward and he couldn't help wondering what had actually happened; the real story.

"But you're done, aren't you? Pretending, I mean."

It was obvious now why her appearance had been such. A striking pink dye, the tattoos inking down her skin – all a sharp contrast from the stereotypical image of a cheerleader.

"Am I?" She asked, though he could tell it was a query more directed to herself rather than him.

It took all of his restrain not to extend a comforting hand towards her, wanting nothing but to ease the pain she was going through. It made his own self-induced misery even more pathetic when the girl in front of him was barely holding herself together.

He had not known what to say but he opened his mouth to attempt a word of consolation, nonetheless. "I'm–"

A loud buzz blared through the apartment and both of them startled, jumping with start.

"Quinn?" An oddly familiar voice sounded through the speaker, accompanied by a muffled grumble in the background.

"Shit." The girl strode towards her speaker, taking a harsh inhale of breath before pressing the button. "Yeah?"

"We're here." Her mother replied. "Aren't you going to let us up?"

From his spot on the couch, he saw her run a hand through her spiky locks, still damp from her shower.

"Right." Quinn pushed another button on the device and a faint sound Sam identified was opening of the door was heard. "It's unlocked."

He pushed himself off the couch and approached the girl, who was pacing around in front of her door, murmuring to herself anxiously.

Placing his hands on her shoulders, the blonde slowed her frantic motions with what he hoped was a soft, encouraging smile. "Hey, calm down. Take a deep breath."

Her eyes widened in alarm and he simply repeated his instructions, emphasising on each syllable. This time, she didn't question his motive further and mutely followed his directions to inhale, and then to exhale, slow and deliberate.

The door opened with a crack and both of them turned towards it at the same time.

"Sam! I didn't know you were here." Her mother greeted with a squeal, clasping her hands together.

Russell followed in behind her, carrying a bag which Sam presumed to contain food, as he lugged it up on the kitchen top.

The older woman started towards him, for surely what seemed to be another hug of greeting, and all he could do was prevent the groan from eliciting.

"I'll help you with that, sir." He darted around her in such a swift manner it surprised him more than it did to the rest, but it felt necessary that he uphold that no-hugging promise to his pretend-girlfriend, who looked like her knees could give out at any moment.

The other man stared at him quizzically, though he did not stop him from opening the bag, revealing a turkey.

It was huge – he'll give it that much credit – and he managed to free it with a good tug.

"Where do you want it, ma'am?" He queried, glancing over his shoulders to find the woman glancing around the apartment, mirroring the way he had examined the interior the instant he stepped inside.

Russell continued piling more things on the counter that Sam hadn't realise till that instant they brought, instead focusing his attention on her mother.

"Call me Judy, dear." She chirped after he distracted her from the inspection, moving into the kitchen with a flourish. Grabbing a nearby pan, she placed it on the counter and gestured towards it. "Right here, if you please."

He did as instructed, rinsing his hands with Russell after they had both finished placing all the food.

"Quinn? Would you learn from your boyfriend and help us out a little?"

Sam avoided the glare she sent when she walked in, leaning against the fridge. "I don't know what to do, anyway. Looks like you've done everything."

Instead of dignifying her with an answer, Judy simply waved her off and finished the remaining touches on the lunch she had brought.

"So." The blonde cleared his throat, still purposefully not meeting the pink-haired girl's eyes. "I'd love to hear some stories about Quinn when she's a kid."

The said person practically groaned out loud when her mother clapped her hands together with a cheer, a smile delighting her features. "What a _marvelous_ idea. I think there's baby pictures here _somewhere_ , to boot."

She trailed off, wandering off into the living room with a hum on her lips. Sam was about to follow her when Quinn jabbed a finger against his torso, effectively ceasing his movement.

"What?"

"This is _not_ funny." She snarled under her breath, low enough that her parents wouldn't hear in the living room.

Sam held his hands up in surrender, pressing his lips together. "I was curious. Plus, anything to distract her from hugging me again."

It seemed to have made a point enough when her finger dropped, though the blonde had hoped it overstayed its welcome against his chest.

"Don't think I won't murder you for this, pretty boy." She challenged, narrowing her eyes up at him.

"I'm pretty, now? Thought I was just a 'golden boy'." He mused, air-quoting the nickname she had given him minutes prior.

Quinn took another deep breath and it appeared that she was attempting to withhold her anger from lashing out at him. It was intriguing to him, the way she suppressed her rage, in addition to effectively distracting her from the almost-breakdown earlier.

"Sam?" Judy called from the living room, waving a photo album she managed to salvage from the things scattered around in the apartment. "I found them!"

He watched her head turn and almost instinctively slipped his hand into hers, lacing their fingers together. The gesture startled her to the extent her eyes darted to his in shock, like she had just been caught in the middle of an incriminating act.

"What are you doing?"

"Holding your hand. What does it look like I'm doing?"

"I mean–" She seemed to have grasped the situation when she stopped her protest mid-sentence, shrugging. "Right. I forgot."

An easy grin curled up on his lips and he nudged her forward, leading her into the living room.

The older couple was situated on the couch they had been sitting in earlier, flipping through the album with an occasional coo. When their heads lifted to see the younger pair approach, their faces broke into a wide smile to find their hands tightly intertwined.

They sat next to them, with Quinn settling furthest away and Sam right by the woman's side as she moved the album closer for him to view.

The first picture was a baby, looking like she was barely a month old. A blonde woman held her in her arms, a proud grin on her face as her cheek pressed against the baby's pinched face.

"Is that you?" Sam asked, looking at the girl, who had her head turned away.

Instead of Quinn responding, it was her mother who hummed the affirmative. "Yes, we were just having a get-together a few weeks after she was born."

He nodded before squinting his eyes, a smile gracing his lips, as he directed his attention towards her. "You don't look a day older now than you did, then."

"Oh, stop. That's not true." Judy swatted at his hands, though the giggle eliciting from her lips told him otherwise.

"Really. Please, _stop_." Quinn pulled her hand away from his and he felt disappointed at the lack of contact, making a grab for the album.

She flipped through impatiently, revealing to him only brief glimpses of her childhood as she matured through the photographs. They were mostly consisting of her with her blonde hair, dressed in clothes that looked nothing close to her current choice of wardrobe.

It made Sam wonder again who was the person in those photos.

Her hands faltered at her prom pictures, a pretty blue dress that highlighted her beauty to perfection. To match the look, the succeeding picture was her wearing a crown, a gigantic beam plastered on her lips. The happiness radiating off her was not lost on him.

"You're a prom queen, aside from being a cheerleader?" He murmured in a manner such that only she could hear.

A nostalgic smile tugged on her lips but she did not answer him, continuously flipping the pages to get to the end.

There was nothing much afterwards, apart from a few more pictures of her graduating, though Sam was perplexed as to the reason her pink-hair stage was never once in the photos, like it was washed from existence itself.

He heard the relieved sigh coming from beside him when she neared the end of the album, saw her hand moving to slam it shut when she halted her movements, her eyes catching onto something.

The reassurance that the torturous photo-viewing session had ended was taken over by a mixture of shock and anger. It was a look that had Sam peering over curiously to gain a better view of what had caused the shift in emotions.

A photograph was tucked on the back of the book, looking like it had been recently placed there. It was faded with age but still kept in perfect condition, straightened neatly.

It was a family portrait and he could identify the blondes in it – a younger version of her parents stared back at him, with Quinn by their side, her blonde roots still intact.

What he couldn't recognise was another girl – the splitting image of Quinn where she was a child, though it was apparent she was older by a few years – next to the family, wearing a cheerful smile all-around.

"Is that your sister?" He asked gently, not recalling any photos of a sister when she was flipping through the album earlier.

Something inside Quinn snapped and she spun to face her mother, the rage now bubbling on the surface. "What is _this_? Did you do this?"

Neither of her parents respond, though the glimpse of guilt momentarily appearing on Judy's face was not missed by him.

"If this is why you came here, you can leave." She threw the album onto the coffee-table, the force startling all three of them. "Right now."

Without waiting for an answer, she hissed out something barely audible through her teeth and stormed into her bedroom, slamming the door shut.

The tension in the room was palpable and he almost wished he could break the silence, ask what in the world was going on.

Russell had a reproachful expression on his features, undoubtedly directed to his wife, but she either didn't notice or ignored it pointedly.

Sam expelled a long sigh before he stood up, rubbing his hand over his stubble. "Uh, I'm going to check on Quinn."

The other man nodded when his wife didn't, silently picking up the album and returning it to the shelf with such calm it nearly made Sam believe she was truly innocent.

He may not know what was going on in the family, but one thing was clear. Whatever made Quinn lash out, was the very reason she was torn up, tiny little pieces inside of her barely holding together.


	4. In Her Shadows

What had been Quinn expecting, _honestly_ , thinking her parents could sashay back into her life and forget everything that had ever happened? Digging through the skeletons long forgotten in the depths of her closet? Pretending that _hey, maybe Quinn could be normal for the first time in the entirety of her life_?

Bloody hell. That was what she would say.

She had no idea whether to cry, laugh or throw her things to the ground to her heart's content, only to pause and think: _And what's the point you're proving? That she successfully ruffled up your feathers and now can throw your past at you for all she desires?_

No.

There was _no way_ Judy could ever make her _feel_ like that anymore – an immature teenager breaking things apart and getting pissed over something she had no control over.

Quinn hated it to her core, how things seemed to be perfectly fine – as much as it could be, anyway – but then she _just_ had to turn her switch back on, never once leaving her alone.

She didn't need pictures of Frannie staring back at her, serving as a reminder of what they used to have, the facade she had on for countless years before _finally_ shredding it for the image she had always desired to be.

Freedom. Unrestricted freedom. Not a dutiful blonde cheerleader, who followed her mother's every command just so she could fit into the shoes she never did back in the past.

Besides, Frannie was never truly gone. Quinn saw her _everywhere._ In the subway, at the bar she played, in the streets, every time her eyes closed for the briefest moments. In Judy's eyes whenever she looked at her, she saw her pupils reflecting the perfect daughter she could only dreamed of and how it simply vanished from her fingertips.

So close, but never there.

She knew, every time her mother spared a glance long enough, that there was an unspoken wish swirling around in her irises – how badly she hope that both of them traded places and she could have the daughter she wanted back in her arms.

No matter how many times Quinn brushed off the subject whenever Frannie was brought up, Judy never failed to harp on things her sister did. _Wonderful Frannie, winning that championship. Beautiful Frannie, crowned as prom queen. Frannie, Frannie, Frannie._

It was like the phantom of her sister sitting around there whenever she was the topic of the conversation, smiling the way she used to – the same curl of lips that sucked all the light and happiness out of Quinn's life.

The photo album was a proof of that. She didn't pay much notice to it when her mother tucked it into her boxes when she moved out, didn't pay any more attention when she chucked it in the corners of her living room, surely didn't care much when Sam mentioned her childhood and the first thing Judy thought of was _that_.

Because she knew, inside laid all the memories she desperately wished never existed but to her mother's eyes, were precisely the same memories she hoped would awaken the inner blonde in her again.

Well, she was wrong.

But what came as a low blow was _that_ family portrait. Quinn was positive that those pictures were safely tucked in Judy's own personal collections and she didn't mind at all – the last thing she ever wanted was yet another reminder of the daughter lost, the daughter that should have been gone.

Her mother appeared to have thought differently and somehow tucked the photograph in when they were still in the kitchen, acutely aware that they would eventually flip to that final page and there was nowhere she could hide, escape from the haunted past she ran away from for all these years.

Letting out a frustrated groan, Quinn hopped onto her bed and buried her face into her pillows, wanting to forget everything that had just conspired in the last few minutes, or so.

A knock on the door. She didn't respond, hoping whoever it was could take a hint and leave her alone to wallow in the misery only her mother could induce.

Apparently, the silence was taken the opposite way when the door opened and she similarly didn't turn her head to see who had just entered her room, feeling her bed dip with the additional weight.

In actuality, Quinn _knew_ it would be Sam. Golden boy Sam Evans.

Judy never followed her after a fight, particularly one of her own doing. Russell was more sympathetic, but he steered clear of everything involving his family and emotions, especially after...

She pulled herself up and propped on her elbows, glancing over her shoulders to find him sitting carefully on the edge of her mattress. There was a comfortable distance between them, something she was grateful for.

Her lips pursed in thought, waiting for the inevitable question to come.

It never came.

Instead, Sam proceed to move – while maintaining the space in between them – and settled down next to her, laying flat on her bed. He stared at the ceiling with his arms folded behind his neck, no words leaving his mouth.

In the silence that followed, Quinn took the opportunity to examine the man's features. She had never noticed how well-built he was, having always assumed that he was a studious person and hadn't bother to work out, but his defined torso down to the veins in his forearms proved her wrong.

His chest heaved with every breath he took – a steady beat of inhaling and exhaling. A rhythmic gestured that soothed her tension, melting from her frame.

She expelled a sigh, opening her mouth to speak but he beat her to it. "There's this girl."

Sam's eyes were closed in contemplation, mulling over his next words as she waited, wondering the direction he was headed.

"That I love." He continued, sensing that no questions were being raised. "I've known her my whole life and she's always there when I need her."

Quinn merely nodded, still unclear when he was elaborating on his personal life but she preferred it over asking about her earlier breakdown. "A girlfriend?"

With that, he shook his head. "A friend."

"Why not?" Her eyebrows frowned together, inspecting his features again. He didn't look _that_ bad to be rejected by some girl, and though they had only known each other fore barely a day, she could tell he wasn't a bad person either. There was no way a girl would choose _not_ to be with someone like _him_.

"Because I never did anything about it. I was afraid of losing her, losing the only friend I've ever known and loved. Too much of a coward to do anything about it until it was too late, anyway."

"Too late for what?" She repeated.

The defeated look that washed over his face was not lost on her, when he raised a hand to cover his eyes. "She's with someone else."

"So you gave up? Just like that?"

"What's the point, anyway? I couldn't compete with someone like _him_."

The way he spoke of his romantic rival made him look vulnerable, fragile, like he was going to break at any moment. She rested a hand on his shoulders, unclear of what she should say to ease his inner turmoil but to comfort him in solitude.

"Besides," Sam continued. "I– I let people go."

"Always?"

He hummed in affirmation. "All the time. I fought too hard for people in the past and I realized– There's no point."

Both of them stayed quiet, for her part she really didn't know how to concoct a proper answer to his admission.

The hand he had been resting on his face came around her shoulders, tentatively, and she released a bated breath. They were now holding each other, in shared comfort, and the thought warmed her.

Perhaps, that was what truly prompted her to speak. "My sister– She died."

The confession felt like a weigh was being lifted off her shoulders. She waited, for him to respond.

He didn't. Instead, Sam slid his hand down to the small of her back, rubbing his fingertips over the fabric comfortingly.

If she had divulged this to Puck, he probably would have attempted distracting her the best way he knew how. Like Sam, he would slip a hand to her back, only it would be over her bare skin. A sensual movement before he proceeded, latching his lips to her neck and she would have given in, allowing him to do as he pleased.

But with the blonde, the gesture was soft and sweet.

Almost as if it unlocked something she kept so carefully hidden beneath the surface, the vision flooded her memories. Frannie, the headlights blinding her with its glare, the shattering of the windows, the impact of the hit.

Her eyes slid to a close as they took the best of her, barely refraining the sobs that threatened to spill.

Sam didn't speak, or ask questions. He remained consistent in providing her the comfort she never knew she carved for, keeping her tightly planted in the present instead of slipping back into the memories that engulfed her.

They simply laid there, wound together as the blonde kept a vigilant watch over her breaking walls.

After a while, he finally broke the silence. "It's the pain that made you who you are now, Quinn. It changes you, made you strong and passionate, defines _you_."

His hand traced the edge of her jaw, forcing her orbs to meet his unyielding ones. She could almost shudder under his piercing gaze, losing herself in the searing hues that stared so intensely into her, almost if he could unravel her with one simple look.

"You may not be the perfect daughter your parents would like you to be, but you are who you are. Never change that."

A smile finally made its way to her lips, albeit small. "Thank you, Golden Boy. You sure know how to cheer someone up."

His features softened into something reminiscent of amusement, cocking his eyebrows. "Of course. I'm _sweet_ , after all."

"Yeah, yeah." Quinn released a laugh, feeling her muscles loosening. "You probably help old ladies cross the roads and stuff."

Sam almost looked offended. "And what's wrong with _that_?"

"Nothing." She held her hands up in surrender, though she was really suppressing another laughter from escaping. "I'm just complimenting you."

This time, he mirrored her smile and shrugged in lieu of an answer.

"Thank you, again."

"There must be something if I'm getting so many gratitude in one day."

She refused to dignify his accusation with a response, instead rolling her eyes back. "I really wouldn't have known what to do, if you weren't here with me. So, yeah. I do owe you quite a bit of 'thank you's."

Sam waved her off, before giving her a lopsided smile. "You're very welcome, if I can say that myself."

"Besides, you must have somewhere else more worthwhile to go to, and I'm probably holding you back–"

He interrupted her rambling with a shake of head. "Trust me, there's no other place I'd rather be."


	5. Decorum

Sam remained with Quinn for what seemed to be an eternity, in the sanctuary that the solitude of her bed provided, simply talking with ease and not caring in the least the older blondes lingering outside, a barrier of a door separating them.

They eventually fell asleep in the comforts of her warm bed, laying idly by each other's side, a breath's distance away from touching with their fingertips.

 _So close, yet so far._

He didn't really want to get up from the moment his eyes slid to a close, content to drape an arm over her shoulders and protect her from what he presumed to be a nightmare of her family, the shadows of her sister haunting her despite not being around anymore.

Until a bright glare of light flashed in his face, forcing him to pry his groggy eyes open to a start.

He attempted to rub his eyes but realised his hand was still pinned beneath the lull of a disheveled mob of pink hair, making him reluctant to tug it away for fear of rousing her from her deep slumber.

A grinning face snapped him back to reality, reminding him the reason for his rude awakening.

The blonde woman hovered above them with a camera in hands, a prominent smile from ear to ear like she had been grinning manically ever since her discovery of the young couple nestled in her daughter's bed.

 _Save me._

Sam desperately wished to concur, but the weight on his forearm served as a reminder that there was no other place he would rather be.

About to inquire, Judy merely held a slender digit up to the seam of her lips, punctuating each word with a hushed whisper. "I came in to tell you that dinner's ready, but then I saw you two snuggled together and I just couldn't resist taking a picture."

"Freshen up and we'll be waiting for you to start."

She finished with a dismissive wave, tiptoeing out of the room before closing the door gently after her.

 _Great, time to wake the sleeping dragon in the form of Quinn Fabray. Thanks for entrusting me with such a task._

He really didn't want to disturb her, looking impossibly younger than ever as she slept peacefully. It had been apparent from the eye-bags around her features that lack of sleep was an issue with the girl and finally having the opportunity to rest, only to be roused for dinner with the same people who had clearly affected her negatively.

A shudder went down his frame.

Not to mention that her painted red margins were taunting him silently with its fullness, puckering ever so slightly in enticing him to bent down and brush his own chapped lips against her luscious ones.

 _She has a boyfriend, you doofus._

He would forever be condemned to unattainable girls, in the entirety of his life, may he be damned.

In addition to that was the fact she had divulged to him earlier, pertaining to her sister.

It couldn't have been easy, facing the loss of a sister and to have it constantly shrouding a person, surely driving her insane with all the constant nagging swirling around her brain.

When Quinn let down her walls and offered him a glimpse of the rawness of which those memories had left her, Sam would not become someone who would take advantage of someone at such a vulnerable moment.

Expelling a soft sigh through his nose, he was about to nudge her awake when her form began to stir, grumbling under her breath before opening her orbs, catching sight of Sam's dilated pupils staring right back into her amber ones.

Both of them blinked in surprise and her lips pursed, a thin brow slanted in disapproval.

"I swear it's not as creepy as it looks."

"Says the person drooling over someone else in her sleep." Quinn scoffed, propelling herself up by her elbows as she rummaged through her stuff.

"Speaking of drool–" The blonde trailed off, gesturing with his jaws jutted at the wet spot on his sweater.

A growing heat flushed on her defined cheekbones, the color of which making his heart flutter unnecessarily against his chest and she punched him lightly in the shoulders, earning a chuckle from his lips.

"I was supposed to wake you up, anyway. Your mother was in here and said dinner was ready."

She startled, mouth falling agape slightly. " _My mother_ was in _here_?"

He nodded slowly as if to emphasis the words he had just uttered, unsure the incredulity surrounding the clarification.

Which clearly manifested in outrage and exasperation when he added, "And might also have taken a picture of us."

Quinn swiped a nearby pillow to throw at his face, which he narrowly dodged by flinging it to the side.

"You _let_ her take a picture of _us_?"

The girl lunged at him with another pillow, forcing him to catch her instead and tug her closer against his chiseled torso. "In my defense, I did _not_. I woke up to the flash of camera."

She made a noise reminiscent of admixture of a groan and growl, burying her face into the fabric. "Seriously? Just kill me."

"Won't be long, now. It's almost over." He contributed helpfully, squeezing her shoulders reassuringly.

"You clearly haven't been to one of the Fabrays' dinners. It's _only_ the beginning." The girl scoffed, pushing herself off the bed and out of Sam's reach.

Slipping into the bathroom, he could hear her turning on the tap and a splash of waters, signalling the need to sober herself before dealing with her parents yet again.

Reminded of the older woman's orders to freshen up himself, Sam slid off the bed and entered the room, managing to maneuver around the small space without bumping into her.

It was strangely odd how well he could sense her at the moment, knowing exactly where she would move next and avoiding knocking into her in the spur of a second.

It certainly made less sense that they have barely known each other for less than twenty-four hours and for the passing hours or so, after which they would both go their separate ways and never hear from each other again.

The blonde tried not to dwell too much in the realisation, swallowing past the lump in his throat when Quinn tapped impatiently against the door frame, leaning slightly into it.

"Are you done?"

"Yeah. I'm coming." He answered, smoothing down his sweater and giving the mirror one last glance to ensure he looked remotely decent.

They were ambushed with another flash the second they made their way outside, a camera in their face.

"Seriously? _Again_?" Quinn let out a frustrated groan, shaking her head as she strode past her mother.

"You two look so adorable, I couldn't _resist._ " Judy made sure her daughter heard the proclaim, shouting with emphasis after her disappearing form.

In lieu of an answer, another growl through gritted teeth was heard instead.

Stepping into the dining room – where a feast that surely would make one's mouth water delightfully – the aromatic scent of turkey and the like infiltrated his nostrils, taking up permanent residence. He hadn't had a home-cooked meal in _forever_ , he must be forming in his mouth right about now.

They seated around the table, where Russell had already settled down with a welcoming smile.

"Would you like to say grace, son?" The older man inquired, clasping his hands together.

Sam wasn't religious, or even a firm believer of any sorts, so hearing the query made his eyebrows shoot up. "Sir, I wouldn't want to change your tradition."

"Nonsense." Judy waved her hand dismissively, inching forward. "Pray away, my dear."

He huffed out a breath and took Quinn's hand in his, for what he hoped to be moral support – slightly thankful her first reaction was not to recoil from his touch – and reached for the older woman's on his other side.

"Thank you for allowing us to be together today, in this lovely get-together. Thank you for guiding Russell and Judy here to New York safely, that we're able to gather as a family to eat and give thanks. More than anything, I'm truly grateful that I was able to meet Quinn, who is by far the most lovely person I've ever met. Thank you for letting me intrude her life and changing my life in more ways that I can count for. Amen."

Once the prayer was done and hands were pulled away, Sam's clasp on Quinn's lingered for a moment longer, savoring the sensation of being in contact with her before tugging his hand back to rest on his knee.

It was then he noticed the older couple exchanging a knowing look, glancing between the two of them.

 _And I thought I was being discrete._

"A toast, my dear?" Judy broke the silence, holding up the cup of sweet tea.

Everyone else held up theirs up under her scrutiny, to which she urged Sam to say, "To new beginnings, new family, and a promising future ahead of us."

Quinn looked slightly queasy, but nonetheless complied by taking a sip.

Resting a hand over her chest, the older woman glanced towards Sam and ensure their eyes locked before murmuring. "I'm not sure if Quinn has mentioned it to you, but you're by far the most pleasant boyfriend of hers we've ever met."

There was a snort of disbelief coming from his other side, to which the woman ignored with a dignified roll of her eyes.

Russell didn't halt slicing the turkey to add in, "It sure looks like she's finally learnt how to pick them."

Out of the corners of his eyes, he saw a flash of shock plastered across her features, before it gave way to admixture of anger and confusion. Something warned him that it had something to do with her making the choices they didn't approve of, which sent her straightening her posture with her anger barely contained above the surface.

Her eyebrows pulled together in a frown, flattening her painted-red lips into a tight line and inhaled slowly through her nose, as if mentally preparing herself.

And as an unwitting party, Sam was an oblivious victim to being lashed out upon in the aftermath of her anger.

"Oh yes, Sam's a really lovely person. Considering where he was about a year ago, compared to now."

He gulped, knowing the smug expression laced with the searing fury signified a revelation, of sorts. Not that she had any dirt on him, anyway.

To her greatest satisfaction, her words made her parents turn their heads to her in alarming attention, lips pursed together.

"A year ago?" Russell echoed incredulously.

"A year ago," she reaffirmed with a forlorn expression, running her fingertips across her jaws. "He's in a really bad place. Aren't you, _Sam_?"

"Uh, am I?" The blonde blurted out, unsure what his response should be.

" _Are you_?" Quinn scoffed, rolling her eyes. "Oh, _darlin_ _g_. No need to downplay your–" She paused for dramatic effect, to which she had obtained in the form of three sets of unyielding optics staring at her. "– addiction."

Her mother choked on the tea she was sipping and Sam had to close his eyes momentarily, to compose himself.

Somewhere – _somehow_ – along the lines had her parents ticked her off regarding her choices in life they barely consented with, and _somehow_ it appeared that she had decided to unleash her wrath on _him_ , who by clarification had no inkling on what in the world was going on.

Except, just a little.

"She's exaggerating, of course." Sam had no idea how to rectify the situation, despite putting on the best smile he could muster in front of two pairs of inquisitive eyes. "She thinks it's _funny_ to make fun of–"

 _Think, Sam. Think._

A flicker of memory waved helpfully at him, and his margins curled with satisfaction. "Quinn's talking about the addiction I had with computer games, which is not that big of a deal. I spent an unhealthy amount of time on it but I've decided to cut it short, _for Quinn_."

He placed a palm over her balled-up fist, running his fingertips across her pale knuckles soothingly. It managed to ease her nerves, however insignificant it was.

"Wait, haven't you been dating for a few weeks?" Russell asked, his voice layered with clear confusion.

Sam opened his mouth for another outright lie, but was beaten by Quinn uttering the words, first. "Oh, we did. But he's been impossibly in love with me, he _stalks_ me for the longest time before I finally agreed to go out on a date with him. It was so _creepy_."

A dramatic shudder vibrated through her frame as she flashed a toothy grin at him, undoubtedly recalling the conversation they had prior to coming out of her room.

He nodded with a grim look, feigning seriousness. "I _am_ persistent."

"Well, son. You've my permission to stalk her, any time you'd like." Russell commented with a grin, slapping him on his back.

They shared a look, to which Quinn groaned out loudly again, her head lulled backwards. "Unbelievable."

"How about some more pictures before dessert?" Judy asked, raising on the balls of her feet to clear the table.


	6. Something Different

The rest of the night flew past with a zephyr in the atmosphere – devoid of the earlier tension when Sam had settled in relatively easy with the flow of how the Fabrays interacted, almost as if he was the missing puzzle piece that should have held them together after Frannie.

He was exactly what they needed and missed ever since her older sister passed away, her presence felt distinctively in their daily lives and refusal to diminish amplifying each time Quinn attempted shoving her memories away from sheer sight. She was the good daughter – beautiful, elegant and dutiful – the one who knew _what_ to say and _when_ to say it. Having Sam here made it easier to remember her without the familiar ache echoing in the hollowness of her chest.

By the time her parents were bidding them goodbyes, her mother had Sam encased in her embrace yet again, an almost forlorn smile adorning her lips at the departure. "We hope to see you soon again, my dear. Come by this Christmas."

The blond spared Quinn a sideways glance and an inquisitive eyebrow spiked, though the silent question was never answered. "Sure, we'll see how it works. Have a safe trip home."

Russell gave his back an affirmative pat before they exchanged nods and polite smiles, prying his wife off the limpet she was – practically latching onto Sam, but she managed to sneak in another quick hug, seemingly confirming the actuality of his presence and earning both men a hearty chortle in response. Quinn lingered behind, digging into her lips with ivories and painted nails sinking against her forearms as if _she_ was the outsider.

In a way, she was.

The couple finally left them alone and descended the stairs, with Sam heaving a sigh and eyes raking the interior of her apartment. For a second, it was apparent he was drinking in the sight of her abode until she cleared her throat did his vision land upon her again.

"So." Quinn emitted a whisper, uttering quietly. "We survived the catastrophe."

Succumbing into another chuckle, he folded masculine arms across pectorals and her blunt teeth chewed harder against chapped lips, almost tasting copper when the action granted her privy to the perfectly concealed biceps beneath fabrics of shamefully existing clothes. The thought itself had her bristling, sending up shivers up her spine as much as the sound of his laugh wafting through the air.

Sam did not speak for a moment and silence settled comfortably for a few minutes, both reluctant to break it. Neither wished to disrupt the trance, shrouded by the safety net of their pretense and he made no gesture to leave when there was no more façade for him to play.

Swallowing the lump, a diminutive sound resonated in her throat that she snubbed in favor of rubbing fingertips absently along her skin. "Thanks for putting up with all of these. I really should have paid you for enduring the nonsense my parents came along with. On a plus side, you're a pretty decent faux boyfriend. You should totally include it in your resume next time."

It coaxed the husky laugh that sent palpitations and Quinn's chest swelled, ambivalent what was the intention of her statement. Did she say that on purpose to cajole that sound out of his lips?

"Well, my stomach is full from all the great food you're certain I 'endured'. I think that's payment enough for most guys."

"Food and sex. Typical."

The words were formulated out of her mouth on an automated response and she cursed herself mentally at the tactless act when the silence morphed into one of embarrassment and her cheeks flushed pink with the burning heat scorching on her visage.

Even Sam appeared amused by biting back his preen and allowing the silence dwell, elongating her shattered image. A defiant brow rose and her jaws tipped upwards brazenly, a taunt prominent on her countenance.

"What? Is it _not_ the truth? Guys think about sex _all_ the time. Are you insinuating that you're an abstinent and _don't_ think about _that_ constantly, Golden Boy?"

"Oh, I _definitely_ think about it."

The blush intensified when he accentuated with riveted eyes dropping towards her frame, tongue darting out intermittently to moisten his lips as he seemingly memorized every curve of her figure to mind. She felt undressed.

Coughing again to capture his attention – the realization on his features would have been entertaining if it wasn't _her_ he was blatantly checking out in her own apartment, to boot – slender digits snaked around her neck with a careless shrug.

"I should probably go now." He offered sheepishly, mirroring her gesture guiltily as he shuffled towards the door, passing by her.

Quinn simply nodded the affirmative, not conjuring enough words to contrive a decent response except the usual. "Right. Um, thank you once again. You know… for everything."

"And as I have said, it was nothing. Goodnight, Quinn."

"Goodnight, Sam."

With a final glance over his broad shoulders, the blond traipsed down the flight of stairs and turned, fading into the shadows that consumed his silhouette.

* * *

The next few days were a lazy comparison to the night spent at Quinn's apartment. As a matter of fact, they were miserable.

It didn't ameliorate how the girl permeated his every coherent thought, rendering him incapable of going about and performing daily tasks as if he had been decapitated and running around without his head. Nothing functioned.

Sam could really use a distraction. _Anything_ to impede his ignominious train of thoughts.

 _She has a boyfriend, Sam Evans. What is with your perpetual need to mope over unavailable girls?_ He admonished himself mentally, visage buried into palms as a groan reverberated from his mouth.

Before any more troubling concepts could materialize, his mobile phone chimed with a call and broke his reverie, earning a grateful sigh even without seeing who was calling

But when he did, a brilliant grin illuminated his countenance.

"Sam!" Stacey screeched into the receiver and the resounding laughter beside her signified the inevitable cry when Stevie would snatch the phone from her, giving their older brother no time to even eke out a greeting.

Sure enough, her giggles dissipated into a petulant whine when her brother successfully swiped the device, parroting her earlier greeting with equal fervor. "Sam, Sam, Sam, Sam!"

"Alright, alright, you two. I'm sure you don't want to squander all that time fighting on the phone when we hardly get your brother on the line, do you?" His mother's voice delineated munificence and warmth, accompanied by his father's usual placating by her side.

"Oh, Samuel. We missed you so terribly much, my sweet boy."

His eyes fluttered close at the sound crystal clear of her mellifluous vocals, bringing with it a pang of nostalgia. It must have been the gathering at Quinn's the other day – family was fresh on his mind.

"I missed you all, too."

"How are you spending your winter? Are you all bundled up? Did you—"

" _Mom_." He interrupted her despite his best efforts _not_ to. It was a rude gesture he had seldom done it to others, but it was best to cut her short before blowing things out of proportions and causing unnecessary trouble when there wasn't a cause in the first place. "I have been living on my own for so long now and survived so many winters. I'm certain I can endure another."

An ephemeral moment passed, indisputably the time for Mary to nod. "I know, I know. I just worry."

"How is Marley? I haven't heard from her in so long. I miss her too."

Sam grimaced – fortunately for him, she couldn't see it. He hadn't told his parents – his mother, especially – everything that transpired with Marley. At every faint mention of his best friend, he had managed to bypass the probing and divert into something else, steering the conversation elsewhere.

He had told his family he simply couldn't afford the trip back home and would been spending his winter – as usual – here. They could barely pay off bills with his father's meagre salary and Stevie and Stacey still had school and extracurricular activities and other indulgences he didn't desire for them to waste it on a plane ticket.

"Oh, she's fine. Things are always the same."

Mary's tone carried a fond chastisement with her next words. "And _when_ are you ever going to tell her how you feel?"

His mother had been aware of his affection for as long as he could remember – perhaps even before he realized it, his mother had the knowing smirk etched on her face whenever he trailed after the girl dutifully. She hadn't exactly been subtle about her constant nagging to push him in the _right_ direction – as she called it – yet Marley never caught on, brushing it off as her enthusiasm.

"We talked about this, Mom. I don't want to ruin our friendship."

"Honey. How can this possibly destroy all of that? I can see she feels the exact same way! If only you would tell her."

A sigh wheezed from his nose and he scrubbed his face wearily, defeated by her persistence.

 _How could she feel the same way about me, when she has Jake? They're perfect_ – _absolutely perfect together. No one could fit her better than him._

But he could never tell her that. Instead he acquiesced, albeit factitious.

Just then, another call signaled for his salvation.

"Can I call you back later? I have someone else on the line."

"Alright, sweetie. Remember what I said and take good care of yourself. I love you."

His siblings chimed in the background, with his father acknowledging.

"Uh. Okay. Love you too. All of you. Bye."

Sliding the button on the screen, the call ended and the other was connected.

"Dude. Where the hell are you?"

Sam's guffaw came with relative ease as his eyes rolled fondly, relaxing. "Hello to you too, Spencer."

"Are you still moping over the girl? Because I will personally come and drag your sorry ass out of your apartment if I have to."

Mirth was wiped from his features at yet another reminder, but a jaded smile tugged on the corners of his lips. "I'm not."

It felt exalting to be able to admit it and actually mean his words.

"What? So you had your heart broken by _another_ chick? What did I tell you?"

"It's _not_ a broken heart. Just an unavailable girl, a wrong time. As always."

"Geez, Sam." Spencer puffed out a breath. "What's with you and unavailable girls?"

 _Tell me about it._

"Anyway. The best thing about curing yourself is to go out and have fun, dude."

His definition of _fun_ was a sharp contrast from Sam's – while the blond would satisfy himself with a book or even a trip down to the centre, Spencer prefers heading out to a nearby bar and spending the night _wasted._ Waking up drunk and hungover and completely oblivious to anything that vexed him for half a day, at least.

Sam didn't feel doing _any_ of that but knew it in his bones that his friend wouldn't take no for an answer, not even he had pointedly admitted to pining over yet another girl.

"There's a bar with an awesome band playing. I think we should totally check it out. Besides, you need to get it out of your system."

"Get _what_ out of my system, exactly?"

"Hook up with someone, Sam. An _available_ girl." He hated how his friend emphasized on the word, as if it was a well-established fact that he only fell for girls out of his league.

"I'll even let you be the judge for what falls under the hook-up category, mate. As long as there's some kind of action, I'm sure the alcohol gods would be appeased and reward you with the best sex of your life and an indefinite supply of game for the rest of your life."

A wary eyebrow hiked upwards, debating. _A reward? How unlikely of Spencer._

"And if I don't manage to? What happens then?"

His friend contemplated – not as long as he would have been satisfied with – before a chortle elicited, bellowing. "Being cursed to having the awkward hardons at the most inappropriate situations."

That sufficed to draw Sam out of his flunk. Nothing like a good old Spencer therapy with his peculiar sense of humor in regards to his friend's 'frustrations' to slap him out of it.

"Deal."

But what Sam hadn't expect upon agreeing to the bet was the sight he was bestowed upon in the bar – cardinal curls swept up in cherubic visage, sylphlike fingers clutching around the microphone as resplendent lights shone on planes of her muscles, dazzling the audience with euphonious melodies being belted into the system. His eyes landed on the ink adorning her skin, mapping stature with the willowy branches that transversed down her arms.

Slowly, he glanced upwards and his transfixed gaze found Quinn's.


	7. Fire

Her phone startled her out of her trance, daydreaming mindlessly as the train of thoughts drifted in and out for endless hours on her hands.

It had been days ever since the eventful day, where she had stumbled into The Atrium with her boyfriend in tow and the same phone had rang in resemblance of the occurrence in her pockets, breaking her reverie. Not only had her parents decided to 'surprise' her with a visit, she had fibbed and concocted a seemingly perfect boyfriend who materialized out of nowhere.

To fuel the charade and her courage mustered, Quinn had similarly marched up to the most wholesome guy her eyes could land on – Sam Evans, irises specked with wonder and gorgeous flaxen mane caressing his defined cheekbones – and what did she know? She had a pretend-boyfriend for the next twenty-four hours.

He had came over for lunch and without inveigling, she had told him something not even Puck knew – and they had been dating for weeks now, for crying out loud – and not to mention, her mother's surreptitious attempt at bringing her sister up had emotions gushing out of the mask she had carefully hidden beneath all these years, crumbling.

But despite the hiccup, they had managed to breeze through the rest, and at the end of the day, Quinn found herself reluctant to send him off.

It was a peculiar sensation to discern the unfamiliar surge of swelling within her, allowing her eyebrows to knit together tighly as she grappled with herself, pushing away the emotions to grace a smile when his figure disappeared down the stairs.

They had no reason to see each other again, given how the sham was indisputably over days prior.

Shaking her head clear, she pulled the device out and it only stemmed a deeper frown, though she still picked the call up – against her better judgement.

"Quinn!"

Judy's exultant vocals greeted her and suppressing the urge to roll her eyes, a jaded smile was plastered on her visage even if the older blonde couldn't see it.

"What is it?"

"Oh, I just wanted to call to check in on you. We haven't been back home for long, yet we miss you terribly."

Hazel eyes narrowing suspiciously with the phone pressed against her earlobe, the other free hand folding against pectorals as her head tilted sideways. Why does this sound eerily parallel to the same call that disrupted the peaceful flow of Quinn's life?

She didn't, however, voice her thoughts and instead, gave an insouciant hum in response.

Failing to wheedle the reaction she had wanted, her mother cleared her throat and continued.

"Anyway. Your father and I have been talking and we just wanted to tell you again how much we _adore_ Sam."

This time, she failed to rein it in and snorted lowly, rolling those eyes of hers she had desperately wanted to since picking the call up.

 _Yeah, I'm pretty sure you have made it abundantly clear about that fact._

Ignoring her again, Judy persisted in the one-sided conversation. "You know how worried we were pertaining to you, Quinn. Your father and I had a lot of difficulty struggling with the repercussions of you dropping out of college on our own with you moving away from us."

 _A lot was probably an understatement. Might as well just admit that you thought I was mentally unstable back then._

"But we came around. It was hard, but we did."

 _After years of cold shoulder and barbs dished whenever you called or made a 'friendly' visit, sure._

"We have been supporting you and paying your rent as you spend time to pursue that little music thing of yours."

 _God_ , can she bury herself in a hole and never come out again? Because she might just break out in hives if Judy rendered her lifelong dream as such again.

"It's just been _so long_ , Quinn. We thought it was finally time to grow up and move on."

Oh, gosh. What? They had a gig that night and it was _big._ She can't be serious now, can she?

It wasn't as though their family were of humble upbringing. As a matter of fact, the Fabrays had been one of the most reputable households back in Connecticut and with a high paying job in the office, they were of a wealthy ménage among the rest. They gave Quinn around five hundred bucks a month to financially support her career choice since high school, to help pay students loans back when she attended Yale for one and a half miserable years they had obstinately insisted upon.

Five hundred dollars to the Fabrays was _nothing_ , but to Quinn, it made the difference between doing what she loved and dreaming about doing what she loves.

"What does that mean? You're going to _stop_ helping me?"

Judy exhaled a phlegmatic breath, clearly angling for something and with her daughter sucking in a harsh breath of sheer incredulity, it would seem that the older blonde woman had attained what she had sought after.

Quinn, on the other hand, was too distressed to discern her mother's stratagem as her mind went into overdrive.

This would definitely impede her, which meant that she would need to put in double shifts to cover her expenditure and in turn, cost her more time and lack of it to spend on singing or doing any of her writing.

"This had been the reason for our visit, to discuss the matter with you. But then, we met Sam."

The girl merely cocked her head, halting her rambling mind. "What has Sam got to do with any of these?"

" _Well_ , you're obviously getting your life together. You're dating a nice, respectable boy and finally taking things seriously. Your father and I are comforted to find how you have left the negative influences in the past behind and stop allowing them to derail you. In fact, we have been so moved by your effort that we decided to give you a few more months."

Quinn blinked owlishly to register the details, only to stutter as she echoed. "A few months?"

"Considering that we have agreed to play things by ear, yes. But as long as you keep treating yourself and your life with utmost solemnity, I don't see why you should worry about it."

In simpler terms, her mother had essentially issued an ultimatum for her to date Sam. Indefinitely.

Was it bad if she wanted to shriek? At herself, at her mother, at her father, at Puck, at Sam, and most importantly, herself.

For being too much of a wimp to confess everything, to blurt out _exactly_ how she felt about her stifling circumstances now imposed upon her, to scream at her mother for laying these conditions on her, as if she was acutely aware of what Quinn was planning.

She should tell Judy how she was full of shit, for she _had_ been taking her life seriously, for goodness' sake.

Leaving college had been one of her best decisions ever made in the entirety of her life; just because her parents wouldn't accept the fact she wasn't taking the usual route, or doing things that made no sense to them didn't mean she was naive or ignorant.

It merely insinuated how she didn't want to be confined within four walls as a mindless drone of an office worker, only daydreaming about what life could have been – if _only_ things had been different, if _only_ a different road was embarked on.

It meant that Quinn was amenable to sacrifices with crazy shifts and taking on more jobs, if _only_ it meant getting it all done.

It meant that she was brave and had the guts to defy.

But that courage got her only so far, for words failed her mouth and she never voiced them.

Instead, Judy prattled on about charity events and church and weddings and the like, which Quinn drowned out till the chattering proved too much and nausea was weaving itself into the pit of her stomach.

"Oh, I have to go. There's a gig afterwards and I need to prepare."

It didn't appear to dampen her mother's spirits, for she only sighed quietly and hummed.

"Alright, dear. It was nice to get together with you that day, even for a while. Tell Sam we said hello and that we'll see him at Christmas."

Gnawing onto her bottom lip before ichor could flood within her mouth, Quinn hesitated momentarily before exhaling. "I don't think he can make it."

The disgruntlement was evident, albeit gracefully concealed as admixture of bafflement and dubiety.

"Why not?"

"He has his own family to visit over the holidays, Mom. And it's not like it's cheap to fly out. Besides, he still has loans to pay."

"Nonsense. We can take care of it. He can stay with us for a couple of days and then go back home." Judy paused briefly and she could swear it was almost as if she could sense her mother squinting her eyes at her, causing her to gulp. "I won't take a 'no' for an answer, Quinn."

"We'll see. But I really have to go."

Quinn hung up without preamble and flung her phone elsewhere, landing somewhere near her discarded bag in the middle of their practice room. She had been awaiting the arrival of her band members when she dazed off, only for a call from reality in the form of her mother came screeching for her.

The device was downright taunting her, baiting with one call away to Sam. Or even if she had to resort to _that_ , a text message.

Could he really be the solution to all of her problems? The salvation to her imminent doom? He could delay it, even. Wasn't that all life was about? Taking the good while possible, prolonging the bad when possible.

Sam was the epitome of _good_ , so why couldn't he hinder it?

Except. . . . . . Quinn would have to degrade herself in doing so, asking him the forsaken question.

Till what extent was she willing to go for the monetary benefits assisted by her parents? Would she swallow her pride in order to feel good and allowing herself to be consumed in her hopes and dreams?

Could she sacrifice _that_ to bend to her parents' wishes and return to pretending to be something she wasn't if it meant following her dream? It wasn't as if she had to _be_ someone else – not even the phantom of Quinn Fabray of the past – but _maybe_ for a little while, she could maintain a guise.

All for a measly sum of dollars a month. Was it worth it?

Before she could linger any further, the door burst open and laughter filled the atmosphere, which Quinn straightened and a smile curled on her lips, standing as she pushed away her thoughts to commence their practice.

* * *

Tucking in an ambrosial blossom behind her ear, Quinn's fingers danced deftly across her forehead where a thin sheen of perspiration clung to her skin, flaring with adrenaline soaring through her veins.

They had been booked for a night at Hunter's, where it was bustling with hordes of people swarming the venue, clamor filling the place. Bodies maneuvered against each other in frivolous movements and the lighting doused in spectrum of glistening glow, as the flow of music wafted through the air.

Nerves consumed her at a night where the engagement had her nonplussed, yet filled her with gratitude at the opportunity to play _here_ , of all places. It seemed that their band had made quite the impression.

"Hey, are you alright?" Artie had slithered up beside her, a concerned hand resting on the small of her back as her friend reassured her with a brief touch.

Lips twitching to offer a smile, Quinn nodded and heaved a sigh, huffing a breath she hadn't been aware she was holding.

"I'm just. . . . tense. It's the Hunter's, after all. I don't want to screw up."

The drummer cackled amidst the noise rattling the bar, engulfing her in a calm semblance only her oldest friend could bring. "Don't sell yourself short, Quinn. We got to be _something_ for them to invite us to play. Plus, you're _awesome_. Why the self-doubt?"

Shrugging, the singer's grin grew impossibly wider at the few words and emitted yet another sigh, eyes slipping closed for a while. "I don't know where you got your confidence about me, but I want a huge dose of it."

He laughed again, patting her on the back.

"Well, at least _someone_ is being chill about it."

Prying her eyes open, she followed his gaze towards Puck – dexterous digits typing out a message with a smirk firmly planted on his visage, guffawing at what would be a lame joke sent by his friends.

They rolled their eyes simultaneously before chuckling quietly, edging towards the stage in preparation for their gig instead of dwelling on their guitarist's antics.

 _Finally_ , it was showtime.

Letting loose the cerise tendrils cascading past her neck and landing on her shoulders, where the ripped shirt unveiled toned abdomen hanging off her stature, painted nails reached and fiddled with the microphone upon the stage.

The crowd grew silent, not enough to draw complete command but sufficed to retain their attention.

It made her apprehension spiral out of control, but years of practice and training had a smile easily taking over her countenance as she introduced their band breathlessly, much to their audience's loud roars of approval.

Recovering her poise as the sanguine oozed from her being, Quinn scanned the crowd before glancing at Artie, starting their first song.

Their other member – Marissa, keyboard and backing vocals – proceeded behind him, synchronizing in perfect harmony. A flicker of excitement darted over from the drummer to Quinn, who swayed and retorted with a wink before a soft laugh elicited, inhaling as she slipped the guitar strap over her head.

 _"For all I know_

 _The best is over and the worst is yet to come_  
 _Is it enough?_  
 _To keep on hoping when the rest have given up?_  
 _And they go_

 _I hate to, say I told you so_  
 _But they love to, say they told me so_  
 _I hate to, say I told you so_  
 _They love to, say they told me."_

As she submerged herself into the cover, the exhilaration pumping continuously alongside her bloodstream fanned her flames. She was on fire.

The nerves, the fear, the hope, the hurt, everything. Her soul was a galaxy all its own when she was on stage, belting.

 _"Say they, say they told me_  
 _Say they, say they told me_  
 _Well you say, you say, you told me_

 _I know you like_  
 _When I admit that I was wrong and you were right_  
 _At least I try_  
 _To keep my cool when I'm thrown into a fire_  
 _And they go."_

Quinn's eyes had fluttered shut by the time the rest joined in, rosette lips brushing against the tip of the microphone as her clutch drew it closer towards her. Her beckon of light.

She had attempted many endeavors to cloak the grief Frannie's death had brought upon their home, but never had anything soothe her as much as music did.

It was without doubt she could _never_ give it up. Ever.

 _"I hate to, say I told you so_  
 _But they love to, say they told me so_  
 _I hate to, say I told you so_  
 _They love to, say they told me_

 _Say they, say they told me_  
 _Say they, say they told me_  
 _Well you say, you say, you told me._

 _Throw me into the fire_  
 _Throw me in, pull me out again_  
 _Throw me into the fire_  
 _Throw me in, pull me out again_  
 _Throw me into the fire_  
 _Throw me in, pull me out again_  
 _Throw me into the fire_  
 _Throw me in, pull me out again."_

If only she would convince Sam to continue their charade for as long as she could prolong the inevitable. To relish in melodies, to savor the crowd screaming, to dance elegantly to the sway of music.

Her train of thoughts pulled her out just as she repeated, this time eyes half-lidded to scrutinize everyone.

 _"Throw me into the fire_

 _Throw me in, pull me out again_  
 _Throw me into the fire_  
 _Throw me in, pull me out again_  
 _Throw me into the fire_  
 _Throw me in, pull me out again_  
 _Throw me into the fire_  
 _Throw me in, pull me out again_  
 _Throw me into the fire_  
 _Throw me in, pull me out again."_

Sam Evans.

Quinn's eyes bulged in recognition when the vision of the blond seemingly eventuated, blinking to see if her mind was playing a trick on her.

It would appear so, if he was mentally undressing her as he did back when they said their farewells at her apartment, tongue skating out over the curvature of his lips in reminiscent of that day.

A faint scarlet dusted her pale skin, turning her attention back to the microphone to continue singing.

 _"I hate to, say I told you so_

 _But they love to, say they told me so_  
 _I hate to, say I told you so_  
 _They love to, say they told me_

 _Say they, say they told me_  
 _Say they, say they told me_  
 _You say, you say, you told me."_

She strummed the last few notes, humming slightly when the music faded out to the beat of drums and Marissa's velvety voice chanting behind her, but all Quinn could detect was the pair of eyes she had found earlier.

The temptation was hard to resist, sparing him a quick glance in hopes he was gone or no longer staring at her.

Which, turns out to be neither as his jaws tipped in a trance and met hers in the split second.

A shudder crept up her spine, grasp tightening around the microphone as her voice resonated across the bar.

She didn't know _what_ to feel – demure at being checked out by a faux boyfriend whom she had introduced to her parents a few days ago, or a rising heat that hinted at what she hoped was anger at being ogled before her boyfriend, no less, and in front of so many people.

But Sam had a mind of his own, when the corners of his lips curved upwards and flashed the same repentant smile he did, and her heart leapt at the sight.


End file.
